These Are The Memories We Keep: Icarus and Isolede
by deliqueena
Summary: I wrote this as a school assignment, under exam conditions. It's a bit of a mish-mash story, drawing on vague myths and tales I heard once. A boy falls from the sky and is found in a heap by a broken girl. This is their story. O/C.


_These are the memories we keep. _

**1. (Isolede)**

Icha [Ick-ah]. It was always about Icha. His flax-blonde hair, his wounded pride, his broken wings. When I first saw him, he lay in a heap of wood and feathers and melting wax, barely breathing and more vulnerable than I had ever seen a man before. I managed, somehow, to bring his battered body back to the town. I had been living there since… No. Think of the man.

He was not as heavy as I'd thought he would be, but I used as much strength as I had left to keep him from the ground until I could put him into my bed. He was breathing almost normally now. He must have been winded. He must have fallen straight out of the sky. Lost in thought, I almost didn't notice his open eyes. The most brilliant shade of sea-green. Blink. And green again. Its vividness astounded me. I had not seen a brightness to rival it. On Earth. His voice was even more beautiful than his eyes.

"Hello." He mesmerized me. But still, I answered.

"I'm Isolede [ei-so-laydh]. I think you fell. You were in the field, and…" I trailed off. This man brought only nonsense from my mouth. He seemed not to notice my incoherency.

"I'm Icarus. But those who know me call me Icha. I believe you've earned the pleasure."

He was more charismatic than my father and my brothers. I enjoyed his banter. It made him more human.

"My sister once called me Isse [iss-eh]. I believe you may be entitled to the pleasure also." I wished I had more practice with males who were not my kin. This strange man was as beautiful as those who had left me down here.

As we talked, I tended to his wounds. Nothing seemed to be broken, but I made sure to be extra gentle, just in case. I found out he was the son of an inventor, and he had grown to enjoy working with his father. I had found him I the remains of his latest invention- a pair of wings that had carried him miles from home before they had melted as he tried to turn a somersault high in the air. His wings were made of feathers and wax, after all, and wax does not hold well in full sunshine, high above the earth. So, he fell, and I had saved him from his despair, and he had saved me from the loneliness I had begun to fear would be too much to bear. I kept him with me as he healed, and I hid him from the world.

**2. (Icarus)**

Feathers and wax are no match for the shining sun. I had been so confidant, so sure in my ability, that I had mocked the great ball of fire with my prideful antics, and I had paid the price of my pride. The sky spat me down towards the earth, and my wings were useless against the pull of gravity. Oh, my pride! Surely, it came before my fall.

The ground was unforgiving, just as the sun. I could not breathe for long minutes afterwards. My whole body ached as if shattered, but I was amazed I could not feel the pain of a broken limb or spine. Maybe the sky had other plans for me. Even so, I could not bear to open my eyes through the pain. Beyond all, I hoped I would be found, not left to die in a heap of wax and feathers.

I thought at first the angel was a dream, a hallucination from the pain. Her strong hands lifted my wounded body and took me into her home, laid me upon a bed, nursed my wounds. When I could open my eyes, her back was turned to me, but soon she turned and stared into my eyes with an expression of wonder that I recognized from the eyes of my father. It was the wonder he expressed when a small gear-set, thought broken and useless, came to life at his touch. It was a wonder at something thought lost and untouchable. I wondered what she had been missing. I found my voice.

"Hello." After a moment of initial shock, she introduced herself as Isolede, and when I gave her my shortened, familiar moniker, she smiled and told me I could call her Isse. She mentioned family, but I saw flashes of pain in her eyes as she did so. It was clear she was alone now. Even her name proclaimed it. I found myself wondering whether I could provide the company she needed, but I shook myself as I remembered we only just met, even if this beautiful angel did just save my life. She talked as she tended my wounds. Eventually, I summoned the courage to ask about her family, and I discovered she was more alone than I had imagined.

Isolede had lived with the gods in the heavens. Her family had been tenders of their temples for centuries, and Isolede's mother had been beautiful enough that the gods had brought her into their domain, along with her family. Isolede had been born in the heavens, with Hera as a midwife, and her life had been fruitful and pleasurable, free of any obligations but to tend to the wishes of the elder gods. But Zeus had favoured Isse, and when Hera saw the young girl at the ruler's side, she demanded that Isse be her servant instead. When Isolede refused, Hera cast her out of the heavens and down to the world of mortals, with only a pair of pink track pants and a tunic to her name. Isolede fond this village as a home, but she had no other family and no hope of returning to the heavens.

When I heard her story, I almost wept. Someone so kind was now so alone, and to go from such a beautiful place to such desolation had broken her a little inside. I vowed that I would keep this broken angel safe, no matter the cost. After all, we had both fallen from the heavens, and I felt a kind of duty to her. I owed her my kindness at least, and, if she would have it, my love.

**3. (Hera) **

I watched Isolede and the boy Icha. They seemed too happy together. When I cast Her out, I did not mean for her to find happiness on earth. I still feel jealous of her beauty and power to attract attention. Even now, Zeus still watches her occasionally. Her family does not admit so much, but they still feel her loss. And that boy! I sent the sun to teach him not to fly so high. And now these two find happiness together, not lessons and misery!

Well, they want to be together? They are connected by their falls, after all. This time, I shall send Hermes to do my dirty work. He has clear instructions, this time. Nothing holds like wax and power, and their touching hands will hold as firm as their souls are bonded. They wanted to be connected, after all. It will do them well, to remember.


End file.
